


The Only Sensible Option

by Anonymous



Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Forced Marriage, M/M, Marriage, Ratigan's a good guy, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 07:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Based off this prompt at the kink meme here: https://disney-kink.dreamwidth.org/3291.html?thread=7833051#cmt7833051TLDR: Basil is being pressured to marry at the risk of losing Baker Street, to someone who might just make him give it (and his career) up anyway. At the party intended for the other mouse to pop the question, Professor Ratigan, who is a calculating, mean, but law-abiding and respected individual, offers himself up as an alternative.Disclaimer: I do not own anything!Part 1 of 3





	The Only Sensible Option

**Author's Note:**

> For some more useful background to this story: in Victorian Mousedom it's not unusual for people to marry others of their own gender. However, if one individual is older and of higher social standing than their spouse, they are head of the house by default.

Basil was sweating a little beneath his collar.

 

They were talking amongst themselves; plotting against him no doubt.

 

He swallowed, finding his throat dry as he glanced down at his hands, which were clasped tightly together around his empty glass. He was afraid, he realised. Truly, unshakeably afraid.

 

He had no intention of making this easy for any of them, but he knew that the time for running away was up. His detecting would be nearly impossible if he was truly alone. And he did not want to be alone. Before showing any further resistance, he would have to give in first.

 

‘ – What do you make of it, Basil?’ said a voice, suddenly loud in his ear.

 

Basil looked up at the expectant faces of the small group he had made a beeline for when he’d arrived at the celebrations. They were all looking at him now; some concerned, some distastefully.

 

‘My word, old man; you do look dreadful,’ said Peter Fairmouse; a family friend and old classmate of his.

 

‘My apologies,’ said Basil quickly, fixing his expression into one of interest in the hopes of prompting a repeat of the question.

 

‘You look as though you need another drink!'

 

‘No, no, dear fellow I’m quite all right - '

 

A big hand took Basil's elbow.

 

‘An excellent suggestion, Mr. Fairmouse,’ Professor Ratigan cut in. ‘Come, Basil. I’m in need of a drink myself.’

 

Basil was startled. It was as though Ratigan had come out of nowhere. He hadn’t said much that evening so far (an unusual thing in of itself), and his sudden interest along with the physical contact caught Basil off guard. Not that it was so out of character for the man; he’d witnessed the professor placing a meticulously considered hand upon the shoulders and backs of many individuals he’d needed to charm or convince. Still, Basil was momentarily overwhelmed as Ratigan’s arm swamped him, and he was steered from the discussion.

 

Once Ratigan had led him over to the Morgans’ butler, Basil became irritated. He hadn’t wanted to leave the safety of the group. As his glass was refilled, he kept catching Morgan and members of both their families shooting glances at him from across the room.

 

Ratigan was extremely polished as usual; clean shaven, fur washed and carefully groomed. Basil observed him carefully. 

 

_Rat. Stance and mannerisms self-taught and maintained with practice... most likely learned through observing others, and then refined by a private but somewhat late education. Clothes and posture mask what is a very fit and strong individual, perhaps not intentionally. Gloves do deliberately conceal claws, however, and to disguise the size and shape of his feet a pair of shoes that almost certainly require him to remain on his metatarsal pads in order to fit. Sideburns trimmed and fur groomed to deliberately emulate that of a mouse’s, which is clearly what the overall ensemble is meant to favour in appearance. Tail gives him away miserably but he still makes a daily effort to fit in better to mouse society. Raised by at least one mouse at some point in his childhood... undoubtedly the origin of the neurosis._

 

Basil scowled. His deductions were always exactly the same with Ratigan, because _he_ knew how and what to hide. At least, what he _could._

 

When they both had their drinks, Basil intended to turn back to the group, but Ratigan swept him along again towards an empty space by a closed door. He had to steady himself lest he spill his beverage, and glared up at Ratigan.

 

‘Oh Basil, please don’t look at me like that,’ said Ratigan, smirking as he took a sip of wine. ‘If I observed closely enough; you weren’t even involved in the gentlemen’s _fascinating_ anecdotes back there.’

 

Basil opened his mouth to argue, before snapping it shut. Lying to Ratigan was no use, ever.

 

‘I was perfectly content in their company,’ he said tartly.

 

‘ _Content_?’ Ratigan repeated in a low hiss. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking so unhappy.’

 

‘That shouldn’t be so, old chap,’ said Basil casually. ‘As I am rarely happy when you are present.’

 

Ratigan merely chuckled and then began to tut, making Basil want to squirm.

 

‘Ah, yes,’ said Ratigan. ‘You do always conveniently “forget” your manners when we speak. But then, I could say the same for myself.’

 

Basil felt his face heat, remembering their first miserable encounter and broke eye contact with him.

 

‘No, dear boy,’ Ratigan continued sincerely. ‘I regret my behaviour. In fact I’d like to make amends, if you’ll allow it.’

 

Basil thought he heard his own name being mentioned by his father’s voice, and folded his arms, carefully tucking his glass in the crook of his elbow. He glanced around the room. The congregation were all noisily involved in their own topics, and no one was brave enough to interrupt the professor. Perhaps it was worth remaining where he was.

 

‘Indeed?’ he said stiffly, raising an eyebrow.

 

‘It doesn’t really take genius like ours to realise that this – ,’ Ratigan gestured around the room, ‘is set up for an opportunity.’

 

Basil frowned. Ratigan had never acknowledged his intellect before, and certainly never held it equal to his own.

 

‘An opportunity for Samuel Morgan to propose to you,’ Ratigan finished.

 

Basil nodded, sighing.

 

‘I suppose you think I ought to be grateful for this “opportunity?”’ he hissed.

 

‘Most would say so. Your chosen career is not popular with your parents and their associates,’ said Ratigan.

 

‘Or with most people,’ Basil said pointedly.

 

Ratigan grinned, showing off his teeth.

 

‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘And Mr. Morgan would, no doubt, put a stop to it once you were wed. He wouldn’t want you to create a habit of making a spectacle of yourself, after all.’

 

‘No. My work requires me not to do so, in fact. But he doesn't see it that way, and I suppose if I give up that work then I can’t. Was this really the purpose of bringing me over here?’

 

Ratigan gave him a pitying look, and Basil really thought he might hit him.

 

‘No,’ said Ratigan finally.

 

‘ _What_ , then?’ snapped Basil.

 

‘I don’t think you should marry Morgan. It’s a terrible idea. Atrocious.’

 

Basil blinked as Ratigan continued.

 

‘But it is my understanding that your parents won’t see you leave this building until you’re engaged, and therefore I thought I’d offer myself as an alternative.’

 

‘You _what_?’ said Basil rudely.

 

Ratigan rolled his eyes.

 

‘I am proposing marriage, Basil,’ he said simply.

 

‘Why on Earth would you do that?’ asked Basil, staring up at him.

 

‘Why does _anyone_ propose marriage?’

 

‘Let me see; to covet property, money and freedom.’

 

‘How unromantic you are. What of passion? A desire to unite with the one you adore?’

 

Basil shifted uncomfortably.

 

‘What of it?’ he asked.

 

Ratigan smirked, leaning down to speak in Basil’s ear.

 

‘ _Darling_ ,’ he murmured, nearly making Basil’s legs buckle. ‘You have much to learn.’

 

He straightened up, leaving Basil feeling oddly lost.

 

‘But all right,’ Ratigan carried on. ‘I will say that you now have two options; marry Morgan, or marry me. If you are to marry me, it is my guess you will need to decide before supper. Therefore I’m afraid my wooing you will have to be postponed somewhat, so I’ll not waste your time with flattery. I am the better option, by _miles_.’

 

Basil laughed, despite himself.

 

‘Oh, you are, are you?’ he said. ‘I’d say in terms of _my_ preference, you and Samuel are both quite even.’

 

‘You wound me, Basil. Here’s where you’re wrong. For one thing, I want to be married and I want a happy marriage at that. And, I have no need to covet any of your property or money, because – and I hate to be crass – I am vastly wealthier than you, Morgan, and your respective families, put together.’

 

Basil huffed as Ratigan persisted.

 

‘As for your freedom; what good would it do me to prevent my spouse from doing what makes him happy? No good, is the answer, and I will repeat myself; I want a happy marriage. For that, I need a happy spouse, not a miserable one and not a merely _contented_ one.’

 

‘And you think we could have a good marriage purely based on what you don’t take from me?’ said Basil.

 

‘By no means. I believe; I _know_ we are an excellent match in every way.’

 

‘That’s not the conclusion I’ve come away with from our encounters.’

 

‘Our _exchanges_ , you mean; you’ve yet to have an encounter with me. I hope we have many once we’re married.’

 

Basil spluttered, blushing through his fur again. Ratigan had always been impolite but _this_ was something else entirely.

 

‘But on that note,’ continued Ratigan smoothly. ‘I apologise for my unpleasantness; starting from the day we met. You were young, and my words were cruel. I don’t often meet individuals whose intellect even treads the line of my own. I am naturally pessimistic when I do. So often they turn out to be disappointments.’

 

Basil flinched.

 

‘I don’t care what you think of me,’ he said stubbornly.

 

‘But you see, _I_ care,' said Ratigan. 'Particularly what you think of _me_. I am proud, and ignorant when it suits me, but I can admit when I am wrong. Our introduction was marred by the rather careless talk your mother had made to me when mentioning your own genius. I felt I was being mocked; parodied by you, perhaps. I thought your experiments might be a fruitless substitute for actual brains.’

 

Basil listened uncertainly. He heard his mother laugh and his hand twitched around the glass.

 

‘But perhaps we should give Mrs. Nest more credit. She saw our similarity almost immediately, after all.’

 

Basil wondered about that. Had she _tried_ to put the idea of marriage to Basil into Ratigan’s head then? She’d grown less subtle about doing so over the years after all. He considered Ratigan carefully.

 

‘I know exactly what kind of life to expect with Mr. Morgan,' he said after a few moments. 'It doesn’t inspire me, to say the least. However, I still know what to expect. I do not know what would happen were I to marry you.’

 

‘You do not trust me, of course,' said Ratigan, nodding. 'Wise.'

 

‘No,’ said Basil. ‘I have learned through observation of you what I can, and I will admit, that only half of my conclusions are foolproof. The rest are but speculation. I am not... not good enough to guess your plans.’

 

He looked positively haggard by the end of his statement.

 

Ratigan chuckled musically.

 

‘My “plans”; you make me sound like a criminal! Well, my dear. Here are some more things you may know, or not know, about me. I take great care of my possessions. Oh, and that reminds me, I don’t enjoy sharing. I _like_ providing for those close to me, but I am able to back off if it is unwelcome. I can give you everything you need; I _promise_ you that if we marry you will want for nothing.’

 

Basil looked across the room. He wished he could smoke, but Mrs. Morgan didn’t like it before dinner.

 

‘I require space for my experiments – and also to think,’ he said finally. ‘I imagine that without it I become quite unpleasant to be around. And even when I have it, I’m told I’m not an “easy” person. I’ve grown accustomed to going to and from my residence without answering to anyone, and I don’t wish for that to change.’

 

‘Of _course_ not,’ crooned Ratigan. ‘Am I to understand that you are considering my proposal?’

 

Basil nodded.

 

‘I am,’ he said, and took a mouthful of wine, swallowing loudly. ‘Despite their embarrassment of me, I don’t want to disappoint my family. But I do so want to annoy them.’

 

Ratigan laughed, and Basil looked at him.

 

‘But I will not be a possession,’ he said.

 

‘I never meant to imply so,’ said Ratigan.

 

Basil left it to Ratigan to do the announcement, who had more than enough gall to do so with appropriate flourish. He knew it might cause a rift between the Nests and the Morgans but everyone was far too intimidated by his fiancé to protest the match. And of course, Samuel had never proposed, so there was no public cause for upset.

 

‘Needless to say, Padraic and Basil Ratigan will be spurned an invitation to next year’s New Year's party at the Morgans',’ said Basil quietly, when they were seated next to each other at supper an hour later.

 

‘You’ll take my name?’ muttered Ratigan, shocked.

 

‘If we want as much independence from my parents, and believe me when I say we _do_ , I’ll just have to make such gestures.’

 

‘Oh, I’m not averse to the idea.’

 

‘I had a feeling you wouldn’t be, my intended.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! There will hopefully be more to follow.


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